


Hi I’m Roger your boyfriend

by emma_and_orlando



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is The Ex, Comfort, Drinking to Cope, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Heart Broken!John, M/M, Roger is an affectionate slut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: John is alone for Valentines day. He goes to the local gay pub to drink his heart out.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 38
Kudos: 115





	Hi I’m Roger your boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IvyYara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyYara/gifts).



> This is for the sweetest dearest Ivyyara ❤️ Such a lovely dear and a great joy to write for. I hope you are doing okay and this fic can cheer you up a little ❤️❤️

"John! Fancy seeing you here."

"Hey Chris." 

John grimaces when he takes a seat by the bar and a sticky substance clings to his palm. The cushion of the barstool deflates completely under his weight and it wobbles. 

It's shitty— like the tacky posters of half naked pinup girls, the fake bottles of scotch behind the bar and the loose planks on the floor, but it's exactly how John rememberers it.

He takes a strong whiff of the sweat and other unidentified smells in the air. 

A few others bums like him are hanging by the bar nursing their drinks, or catching a break from dancing on the open floor behind him.

Not many people are in tonight. It isn't the most romantic place. 

"What's it been? Like, three months since I've seen you?" Crystal towels down a beer glass John knows is intended for him. Once it's dry Crystal flops the towel over his shoulder and leans onto the bar to take a closer look at him. "You doing okay?"

This is the _exact_ reason why John stopped going to the Elderberry pub. 

"I'm fine." He says. He already regrets coming.

Crystal takes a hint and starts on his beer. He reaches for the tap and flips it to fill Johns glass. "I'm glad. Missed having your lovely presence around."

"I'm sure you did." John smirks back when the glass is shoved under his nose.

At least the Elderberry doesn't put up Valentines decorations or play corny couples pub quizzes, making it the least insufferable joint he knows of. John had the choice of going out to the place his ex used to take him, or listen to his next door neighbors have obnoxiously loud sex. In the end he realized he needed a drink to survive the night. 

"So you here to get pissed?" Crystal asks, only half masking the underlying question.

"Yes I'm single," John deadpans. "And _no,_ not looking for anything. Thank you."

Crystal pushes himself away from the bar with his arms held up in innocence. He turns to the other customers whom he'd let wait to give his full attention to John. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it!"

At least Crystal hasn't changed since last December, unlike others. Most of his friends were Brians and they naturally stopped hanging out with John after the breakup. 

It is a small relief to still have Crystal on his side. There aren't many secret gay pubs in the area. Still, John finds his stomach in a knot at all the memories that come flooding in while he is sinking into the atmosphere of the old dusty Elderberry.

Brian religiously used to buy him a beer every Friday evening after he had gotten his paycheck. John liked to drag him out onto the dance floor after they both got drunk enough. 

It was the only public place where John had ever felt safe to plant a kiss on Brians warm lips.

He is left to stare into the foam of his beer. He sighs deeply and _maybe_ hearing his middle aged neighbors fucking isn't as bad as sitting in the chair Brian used to spin him around in and wrap his arms around his waist and—

"That's a heavy sigh."

John drags his eyes up from his beer. Two chairs over he finds a man who hadn't been there before- so strikingly beautiful, Johns eyes widen in wonder. 

"Uh..."

The man reaches out his hand for him to shake. John takes it absentmindedly. "Roger." He flashes John a smile, before squeezing his hand. "Nice to meet you." 

"Uh—"

Before John can sink into the foundation of the bar with embarrassment, Crystal safes his dignity. "Roger. I see you've hauled your ass back here again. Deviling my friend and number one customer."

"Sure I did." 

He drops Johns hand to smile up at Crystal innocently. "Skinny Jeans and I were just chatting, weren't we?"

"Skinny Jeans?" John frowns. 

Rogers mischievous grin broadens.

"Can't wear those without expecting me to look." He winks. John finds his face heating up. _Maybe_ he is wearing the tightest pants he owns for the first time he's gone out after Brian had left. Who can blame him?

He wonders just how drunk Roger is to flirt with someone who is definitely not in the same league as him. 

"I, uhm... I—" John cradles the beer to his chest while he scrambles for something to say. 

Crystal safes him again.

He points a stern finger into Rogers face, who looks at it cross eyed. 

"If I hear you've been misbehaving I'll make you pay. Deacks just gone through a messy breakup recently."

 _Fucking hell_.

Crystal had leant in and discretely lowered his voice which at least means the rest of the bar couldn't hear him, John wouldn't have understood him over the background music and the chattering of the old man next to him if it weren't for the betrayed gasp his blond companion lets out. 

Roger spins in his chair to give him a deeply sincere look of pity that John really doesn't need. Roger clutches his hands to his heart and he frowns. 

"He broke up with you just before Valentines day?"

"Christmas..." John finds himself muttering, embarrassed to admit he is still mourning a relationship that's been dead since last year. 

"That's awful. What kind of asshole does that?" Roger knocks his fist on the table. "Chris?!"

Crystal had just turned around to tend to another customer and groans. "Yes?"

"Six shots for me and my friend." 

"So you're friends now?" Crystal snorts, though already reaching for the glasses under the bar area John cannot see. 

Roger scoots over a chair over to flop down next to John. Up close he is even better looking. His eyes have tiny specks of gold in them and his hair falls delicately onto his shoulders— he is wearing a bedazzled shirt with green sequins. 

John feels not only gross because he had forgone showering this morning, but also underdressed in his ratty grey sweater. 

" _Four_ shots. Two on the house."

Crystal sets them down before the two of them. Johns beer moved to the side. 

Roger thrusts one of the glasses in Johns hand. 

Then he raises his own with a big grin, not at all upset that Crystal is refusing to let him drink more. "To a single 1973!" 

John doesn't owe the stranger anything, but the alcohol is free and he could really use a stronger drink right now than the cheap beer. He grimaces when he throws the shot back and the liquor burns the insides of his throat. He and Roger both slam their glasses back onto the bar with a grimace. "Fuck."

"Another!"

The next shot is pressed into his hand too and they simultaneously down it. 

When John reopens his eyes again, his vision is fussy around the edges. He washes the vodka away with his beer and already feels his fingertips tingling. His infamous low tolerance making its early appearance. 

"That's good right?" _Rogers_ cheeks are pink with a tipsy flush. "Fuck your ex."

The reminder of Brian washes his smile off his face. John rests his chin in his hand and feels the familiar tug on his heart. He thought he kept his face neutral, but Roger instantly crumbles beside him.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to." 

John jolts when Rogers hands clamp around his arm and he lays his head on Johns shoulder. 

"We shouldn't talk about heartbreak on Valentines day." 

The weight of his head sits easy on John. Yet he finds himself waiting for Roger to come to his senses and stop caring about his sorry ass. 

"It's not really your fault." John drawls. "He used to bring me here all the time. This is the first time I've come back, thought it'd be good for me instead of feeling sorry for myself and avoiding it. Haven't been out ever since anyway."

Roger squeezes his biceps with a soft smile.

"Such a pretty guy like you?" 

"Stop fluttering your eyelashes, Roger. You look ridiculous." Crystal interjects as he takes away their glasses. 

Roger gasps. "I was just complimenting my new friend on his pretty smile." Roger tips his chin to rest it on Johns shoulder with a dreamy grin. "Your ex is an idiot if he let you go."

Crystal chuckles when John sends a lost look in his direction, before he leaves the two of them to it.

Johns arm tingles where he is held and Rogers compliments make his stomachs flutter. 

"He broke up with me."

"Stupid!" Roger huffs. "Why?" 

With Rogers arm on his shoulder he can't shrug. He just sips his beer with his free hand. "Wanted to see what other fish are in the sea or something."

"No?!"

"Yes." John sighs.

"God." Roger wrinkles his nose. John has to admit he is adorable. "That's absolutely bullocks. _Yuck._ I hope he realizes what he's lost."

Even though it is a comforting thought that Brian regrets breaking up with him four days before Christmas Eve he was supposed to spend at Johns house— his mum had bought a new air mattress and a luxurious present she really couldn't afford, John is afraid Brian has long moved on. He was the one with the friends, the hobbies, the doctorate and dreams. John has always been sailing by. 

"I doubt it." 

He finishes his beer and continues to feel sorry for himself, but now with a pretty boy on his arm.

"Aw," Roger looks up at him with hooded eyes, he blinks lazily. He tucks a strand of Johns hair behind his ear and exposes more of his face. "If you were mine, I'd never fish again."

The tips of Johns ears grow hot. "You're drunk."

"Tipsy." Roger interjects, waving his finger in the air, "But not blind. You. Are. Cute." 

John can't help but giggle when Roger boops his nose. 

Roger chuckles as well, the sound rings through Johns ears and warms his insides. He isn't sure how much is the effect of the vodka and how much he is instantly smitten by Rogers blue eyes and easy touches. 

"Enough feeling sorry for myself, don't think Crystal is going to serve us another drink, shouldn't dwell too much." 

"Me neither." Roger hums, "Wanna go for a dance?" 

The last time he danced was with Brian. In this exact place, they were much drunker and they had been specks in a muddle of people. Today the dance floor is nearly empty but two happy couples grinding and making out. Roger seems eager enough and will be taken by surprise by Johns dance moves. If John plays his cards right he might manage a night in bed with Roger, but he really doesn't want to wake up to a sober Roger who realizes that John is definitely not what he bargained for before he got drunk. He is back to not wanting to dance at all. 

Roger pulls on his arm insistingly. "Please?"

"I don't know... I'm wondering if you're just weird or very drunk."

"Weird." Crystal calls from across the bar. 

When Roger is done glaring at Crystal, he moves back to John with a deadly serious look. "Oh I can't help it, I thought I'd be alone for Valentines and go for a drink or two, chat up with poor ol' lonely Chris over here. But then— BOOM! I see you sitting here, looking completely miserable. The world works in mysterious ways. Doesn't it?"

Roger is a little tipsy, yes. Drunk off his ass, no. Questionable taste in men, yes too. 

"One dance." Roger begs, pulling on Johns arm. "And if you like it, maybe another. I'll show you a good time."

"You'll show _me_ a good time?" John splutters with a laugh. 

He climbs to his feet with what can only be described as drunk confidence and tugs Rogers hand along too in the direction of the dance floor. 

Roger is already grinning— his eyes glued to Johns feet while he walks backwards on the rhythm of the music. He lifts Rogers arm up in the air and makes him spin while they move. Roger sways with a breathy giggle and John has to steady him by putting a hand on his hip. 

"I'll show you how it's done, I'm going to—"

Walking backwards in a cramped poorly lit pub is not a smart idea. Johns dancing is interrupted when his back collides against someone's chest.

Roger continues to giggle, while John turns on his heel and splutters to apologize to the man he nearly knocked over when— 

"John?"

 _Of course_. "Brian." 

John comes to an abrupt halt, causing Roger to stumble against his back. They're still holding hands and it's the only reason why he doesn't tumble to the ground. 

"Oops." Roger wraps an arm around Johns waist and perches his chin on his shoulder. "Who's he?"

"This, uh, is Brian." 

Brian nods stiffly, he eyes Roger uncomfortably and John almost shrugs the other man off out of politeness— when suddenly a fourth person enters the conversation. 

It's a man roughly the same size as John, with long brown hair, a fringe and a shy smile.

He plasters himself against Brians side. _Ah._ John realizes, _the other fish in the sea._ "Brian, are you going to introduce me?"

"Sure, of course." Brian has to pry his eyes away from Roger who'd started rubbing his cheek on Johns fluffy sweater. "Uh John, this is Anthony. My boyfriend."

"I've heard loads about you." Anthony has a quiet voice and doesn't make a move to shake hands. 

John clenches his jaw to keep himself together. He isn't proud of the resentment he feels.

"I bet."

"And who's that?" Brian tips his chin at Roger general direction.

An insufferable lump is stuck at the back of his throat. It has been months since Brian packed his bags and left John to scramble for rent by himself before he could find a cheaper flat again. John can't say he hates Brian, not after Brian had taken such care of him for those months, but there are many unresolved feelings along the lines of it. He looks healthy and unlike John he is dressed decently with a boyfriend attached to his hip. 

When John doesn't answer, Roger takes it upon himself to do so. 

"I'm Roger," He steps next to John and shows off their interwoven fingers. "Johns boyfriend."

John turns so fast he nearly gives himself a whiplash. He gapes at him, but Roger doesn't pay him any mind and sends Brian an unimpressed once over that has the much taller man squirming. "Who are you?"

"Brian, I'm sure Johns mentioned me." Brian says, to which Roger shrugs obliviously. "We used to date."

 _That's one way to describe 18 months of living together._ John grinds his teeth. 

"Oh," Roger says. " _The ex_."

"So I'm 'The Ex' now?" Brian turns to look at John again.

To be very honest, John doesn't know what is going on. Not only does he have the hottest person he's ever laid eyes upon dangling off his arm, but Brian is standing opposite of him, looking slimmer and dating someone who might be Johns long lost twin brother. He had zoned out a few moments ago and he isn't drunk enough to deal with this right now. 

"I didn't think it was relevant to go in details." He decides to say— which is apparently offensive if Brians face is anything to go by.

"Like my name?"

"We don't have time for boring stuff, right Babe? Tell them about our trip last weekend."

Roger keeps acting along, perhaps for his own amusement or as a good deed, but John can't help but enjoy the effect it has on Brian. 

"I can't tell him that, that's inappropriate." John mutters just loud enough for Brian to hear.

"Oh." Roger grins. John doesn't expect his face to be so close to his own. Neither does he expect the sloppy kiss on his cheek that leaves a wet patch of saliva. 

"Well," Brian clears his throat, causing John and Roger to pull away from making heart eyes at one another. "It's nice to see you doing so well John."

John swallows down 55 days of humiliating heart break. A squeeze from Roger pulls him back to reality.

"Of course."

"It was nice meeting you." Anthony adds hastily. 

Roger replies for John again, John is glad he doesn’t have to because he isn't sure if he could have gotten himself to say it's nice to meet Brians newest foame. "It was nice meeting you too Anthony, and you, Bruce." 

Brians becoming more flustered. " _Brian_." 

"Right! Sorry," Roger shrugs innocently. "Anyway, we were just about to go for a dance so," 

"Actually, no."

Roger raises his eyebrows in surprise and for the first time since John has met him he frowns. "Uh, I was thinking maybe we could head home. Bit hot in here." He hastily to explain with Brians shadow still looming over him. They have gone too far for their act to falter now, Johns heartbeat picks up. 

The crestfallen look on Rogers face is quickly replaced with a cheeky smile. 

"Head home, right." Roger licks his lips. "Yours or mine?"

The lying makes him sweat profoundly and he is sure the sweater has wet patches on the back and under his armpits. "Mine."

"Good." Roger grins. John strokes his thumb over the back of his hand. A silent thank you. 

The two of them are interrupted by another awkward cough.

"I think we will be going." 

Brian tugs on Anthony's arm as they slip past John and Roger. "Was nice catching up though."

"Yes. Really nice." John says flatly. He doesn't miss the smile Brian sends his way over his shoulder on his way to the bar.

John doesn't return it. 

Roger is pulling him in the opposite direction before John can begin replaying what just happened in his head to analyze how much of an idiot he is. He leads them towards the exit and holds the door open for him. 

"After you."

"You're fucking crazy, you know that?" John chuckles and inhales a blissful lung full of fresh air. 

His grin nearly splits his face. Roger seems very pleased with himself. "You took very easy to the idea of being boyfriends. And it worked. Did you see his face?"

"I did." 

"Does he always have that stick up his arse?" Roger asks and regretfully lets go of Johns hand while they cross the street. It is a short way, but it is better not to risk being seen by anyone. They compensate it by walking with their sides pressed together. Their fingers brush against the other while they shiver in the February cold. Neither of them wear a coat. 

John shakes his head. "No, but he didn't like that you were there with me. He left me quite abruptly, I think he didn't expect me to have another boyfriend by now. That's very unlike me— and he is right, y'know." 

"That's not up to him! He was the one who left!"

"I know." John keeps his voice low in the hopes that Roger will stop shouting. "I know, he's a bit complicated." 

"That boy who was with him looked exactly like you? What's up with that? And where can I find one as well?" 

John pushes him and Roger nearly tumbles onto the road with how hard he is cackling. 

Lucky for them and the people who are trying to sleep, the apartment appears in the distance behind the inner city fog. John opens the front door leading into the corridor with his key and then he helps Roger up the two flights of stairs with a hand on his lower back. 

He now realizes he has left his apartment in a devastating state. Not expecting to bring home a guest.

"If I knew you were coming I would have cleaned up."

"Don't be silly."

Roger takes off his shoes but John wishes he wouldn't. He has no idea when he last vacuumed the carpet. He scrambles to offer Roger a pair of fluffy slippers from under his own heap of platform shoes, "Here," he says, not mentioning they were once Brians.

Roger uses Johns shoulder to balance himself while he slides them on, their noses nearly touching. "Thank you." 

There isn't an ounce of nervousness in his smile. John wishes he was more like Roger. 

Roger pushes away from him to look around the dark apartment. John neglects turning on the lights in the hopes Roger won't spot the lack of care he had put into his home recently. The places where Brians knick knacks used to stand are still empty, leaving gaping holes in the decor. 

John trails after Roger feeling both anxious and excited. Blue eyes dart between the pictures on the walls and his fingers trail over the table top.

There he stops.

Roger leans against the edge of the table and wraps his arms around Johns waist. John lets himself be pulled flush against him. 

"Hi, there."

John presses his forehead against Rogers. He can't help but grin too. "Hello."

Rogers hands move down to hook on the loops of his jeans. He pulls John in tighter, their lips nearly touching. 

It feels good to have someone touch him intimately again.

He finds his heart thumping and his blood rushing with the prospect of _something_ to come. Rogers breath ghosts over his face, his eyes are lazily hooded with trust John can't remember how he earned it. 

"So are we gonna have sex or am I getting a sandwich?" 

The moment is broken and John chuckles. "Are you making me your housewife?"

"I'd love to."

Everywhere where Rogers body presses against Johns skin prickles. He can't help himself when his eyes drift closed and he pulls Rogers lips against his by tugging on the collar of his shirt.

"Mhmpf." Roger chuckles into the kiss, but when the surprise wavers off he closes his eyes too. 

John starts of slow, taking control, his lips capture Rogers bottom lip between his. He tugs just for a moment, gently, when he has Roger moaning quietly he takes the opportunity to enter Rogers slack mouth with his tongue.

He is warm and inviting. John pushes his body closer against Rogers to deepen the kiss. 

His tongue swirls around Rogers, he suddenly can't get enough and pushes Roger down until he lays flat on his back and John has climbed on top of him.

Rogers hands have long traveled down to squeeze ass. Causing both of them to groan.

John finds his hands raking underneath Rogers shirt. He presses his fingertips against his sides, tickling him just enough to get a breathy giggle between desperate kisses they sloppily press against each others lips. Wet saliva connects between them, they're filthy and desperate. 

Rogers tongue flicks against his, before he pulls out to nibble on his bottom lip. Feeling it swell under his ministrations. 

The table creaks dangerously under their combined weight. John ignores it in favor of crawling further up Rogers body and pressing his ass up in the air supported by his knees. It makes Roger groan, now having two handfulls of ass. "Fucking hell." He moans, giving John another lazy kiss. "Bruce doesn't know what he let go."

"Brian." John chuckles. 

The thought of Brian doesn't flood in any bad memories, not when he sits up to look down at the man splayed out beneath him. 

They have only been kissing for two minutes and Roger looks already ruined, with his bruised lips and dazed eyes. John hopes he isn't as flustered as Roger, he couldn't pull it off the same way he can.

"Hey there." Roger pants. His chest heaving up and down rapidly. 

John tucks his hair behind his ear, Roger follows his every move with his eyes lazily. Butterflies flutter about in his underbelly. 

"You comfortable down there?" 

"Of course."

Broad hands land on his hips to keep him grounded, yet John plants his hands on Rogers shoulders too. Keeping him pinned down as well. Instead of tensing up Roger relaxes into the touch. 

Just as John leans back in again to continue their make out session, a loud growl from Rogers stomach makes him pull away.

"What was that?" He smiles against Rogers neck. 

Roger is laughing too, his body shakes underneath Johns. "I told you I was hungry."

"Alright."

With some regret John climbs off the table and drags Roger up too. Roger groans but doesn't protest further when he is pulled to the edge again so that John can pull him onto his feet.

Their fingers find each other and John leads Roger to the counter with a confidence he doesn't truly embody. 

"Let's make you a fucking sandwich." 

John can feel Roger watching him grab two plates and a knife from the mostly empty cupboard. He hands Roger the knife before he goes to rummage through the fridge. He is due for a trip to the store. He hadn't expected a guest, especially not ones who wanted more than the half empty bottle of vodka he has in the back, the spoiled milk, two eggs, cheese, four month old mayo and browning lettuce. 

"What do you think of a mayo, lettuce, cheese sandwich? Hm?" 

He puts the ingredients down in the counter between them and hands Roger the mayonnaise in his free hand. He gives them a puzzled frown, while John find four nearly stale slices of bread. 

"I have to help?" Roger asks. "I'm a guest?" 

The utter seriousness of the betrayal in his voice makes John laugh. 

"You wanted the sandwich." 

"But it's Valentines, John!" Roger cries out when John drops the slices on the plate before him.

Glancing at the clock above his television set tells him it technically isn't the 14th anymore. 

Yet he feels like those technicalities don't matter much to Roger.

"You're an idiot, you know. Just get to it." John nudges his shoulder to mask how infectious Rogers smile and charm is. 

At least it works.

With a pout he spreads the mayo over the bread after which he hands them to John who assembles the rest of the sandwich. 

Together they move onto the couch, sandwiches and glasses of limey tap water in tow. 

Roger makes Johns place his own. It melts John to see him get instantly comfortable next to him. He toes off the slippers and leaves them on the floor. He draws his legs up to his chest to curl up in Johns side like a cat, with his head against Johns shoulder and his knees in Johns lap. 

"Comfy?"

"Very much, thank you." Roger reaches for the first sandwich, he munches on the hard crust lazily, while John checks the television guide magazine if there are any good movies on tonight. 

"Anything on?"

"The only non-romantic thing I see is Blacula and I'm not sure if I—"

"Dracula?" Roger asks, tipping his chin up.

John shakes his head with a grimace and shows the program on the page. " _Blacula_."

"That sounds horrific. We need to see it."

Next thing they need to do is to find the remote control, which is home assembled by John because he couldn't buy a television set with the latest technology. He prompts Roger to look under the pillow on the opposite end of the couch. With his foot, Roger knocks the pillow away. Only to reveal a pile of used tissues from this afternoon, which John had stupidly forgotten about. 

He rushes to his feet to bin them immediately. He gathers them in his arms and carries them to the trashcan in the kitchen. The whole time he can feel hot embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "I'm a miserable fuck." He says when he finally comes to sit back on the couch. 

He half expects Roger to come to his senses and realize how much of a mistake he is making.

Yet it doesn't happen. On the couch Roger waits for him with open arms and the remote on his lap. He pulls John in for a hug and a brief peck on the lips. 

"Don't say that."

John shallows thickly as he swims in the blue depths of Rogers eyes. "Okay."

Once satisfied with the lack of self pity in his voice, Roger cuddles back against his side. He hands John the remote to turn it onto the channel that shows the most unromantic movie available to them, whilst other channels will show movies compiled with heterosexual love stories with slightly sexist undertones John doesn't want to get into at 1 AM with a pretty blond splayed across him. 

John has his arm wrapped around Rogers shoulder and he subconsciously pulls him closer against him. 

Roger takes to the shift easily. 

He slides down until his head rests on Johns thigh. Blacula plays in the background, but John only has eye for Roger and his smile.

"Who thought this was a good idea?" Roger mutters as he frowns at the tiny screen.

John twirls a strand of blond hair through his fingers until he has gotten rid of all the tiny knots that make out most of Rogers mess of hair. He likes it though, to feel the smooth hairs glide between his fingertips.

"I don't know." He whispers, keeping his voice low. 

The movie has only been playing for twenty minutes and Roger is already starting to nod off. John caresses Rogers cheek with his knuckle, until Roger struggles to keep his eyes open. It is amusing to watch him rapidly blinking whenever his eyes threaten to flutter closed. 

John helps him to settle against his side more comfortably. He single handedly throws the blanket over his legs. Roger doesn’t stir and John is realizing Roger won't win this one. 

"No sex huh?" 

"Sorry." Roger mumbles, eyes closed. 

John plants a kiss on the crown of his head. He hasn't missed Brian at all for hours, which is a record. "Don't worry."

"Y'have a good Valentines?" 

Johns nails scratch his scalp gently, Roger melts into the touch. "I did. Thanks to my pretend boyfriend."

"Hm." Rogers lip quirks even in his half sleep. He cuddles closer against John. "Good."

John secretly turns off the sounds of Blacula to let Roger sleep in peace. John doesn't care that he is stuck here with a little more than a stranger sleeping in his lap. He likes it better than the nights he had spent alone, wondering if tomorrow will feel as lonely as yesterday. 

Roger sighs and John smooths his palm over his cheek where he feels the heat radiate off his skin. 

"Very good." He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it! Bless you all ❤️🌙 Happy Valentines everyone.


End file.
